


Farmer's Market Hot

by startswithhope



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autumn, F/M, Farmer's Market, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12443616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/pseuds/startswithhope
Summary: It’s been a few months, so forgive me if this is rusty. Here’s 3000 words of Farmer’s Market flirty fun and farmhouse sexy times. Modern AU, rated M.





	Farmer's Market Hot

 

To her left, her neighbor is providing a constant and delicious kettle corn flavored breeze, a welcome fragrant addition to her favorite day of the week. Saturday, Farmer’s Market day, a day filled with flannel shirts, leaves crunching beneath her boots and a good chunk of money in her pocket. The bushels of apples on her table are filled to the brim, collected from David’s orchard, a small pocket of trees she’s sure he only keeps tended because he knows how much she loves them. She sells the apples and gets to pocket half the proceeds, which she’s been squirreling away so she can eventually buy a place of her own. David and Mary Margaret’s guest house on the farm is nice and all, but she could  _really_  use some privacy. 

It’s an unconscious thing, she tells herself, as her eyes drift across the walkway to Killian and those stupid blue eyes and friendly smile she just knows will be directed at her. This happens entirely too often, the two of them catching each other looking, his obvious interest raising goosebumps along her skin. He’s entirely too attractive, with that carelessly tousled dark hair, ginger-tinged scruff and wiry frame. The fact that he bakes the best damn pies she’s ever tasted doesn’t help, either. He’s like her own personal dessert on display if she’d only just forget her diet and allow herself to indulge.

It’s been a long time, too long if you ask her body, since she’s let a man get close enough to touch her (both physically and emotionally). And she’s hungry… _for both_. So, Killian is scary, because despite her feigned protests, she’s past the point of curious and veering straight into potentially Bad Decision Central.

The sun overhead is warm, but the autumn breeze keeps Emma cool as she chats and sweet talks her customers into buying more apples than they obviously could need. They know they are being worked by a pro, but she’s well liked by this little rural town (or at least David and Mary Margaret are, so she is by proxy), so they just smile as she coaxes one more granny smith into their produce bags.

As afternoon swiftly approaches, she realizes she’s down to just one barrell and quickly dumps half into a box below the table. The minute she does it she feels a bit foolish, cheeks burning from internal embarrassment as she taps her foot against the stash of apples she’s just saved for when Killian comes by at the end of the day. Looking over at his stall, she sees him winking at Ms. Lucas as he hands a box full of pies to Marco waiting patiently at her side.

“You are a scoundrel, Jones, but you know I love you anyway,” Ms. Lucas chides, before turning her smile to Marco and ushering him to the next stall.

Killian looks over at Emma and gives her a wink as well, which he knows full well will make her laugh and get her to engage.

“Nope, you still suck at that. Who taught you how to wink, anyway?”

Chuckling, Killian steps out from behind his table and wipes his hand on the black apron tied around his waist. The claw attachment he’s wearing today on his left hand is still clutching the money from Marcus and he pauses to stuff it in his pocket before taking the 12 steps (yes, she knows how many steps) over to her booth.

“I’ve told you time and again, Swan, if you’re offering me a lesson, you’d have a very willing pupil.”

Sweat begins to prickle beneath the skin between her breasts at the heat behind his eyes and her gaze falls not so subtly to his mouth, watching as his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. The two seconds that pass in that moment feel like an eternity, an impossible number of dirty thoughts fighting for dominance in her brain before she composes herself with a quick huff and a shake of her head.

“The last thing you need is lessons on how to flirt  _more_.”

Killian laughs, his “aye, love” warming her like spicy honey and she lets herself smile, the small action making her feel immediately lighter and more confident in the decision she’s apparently just made.

Speaking simultaneously, Killian asks “if this is all of the apples she has left” just as Emma blurts out “we should grab a drink sometime”.

“No,” Emma answers, bending down to hide her flaming cheeks and grab the hidden apples at her feet.

“Swan, did you just ask me out on a date?” Killian asks, the tone of his voice somehow both incredulous and cocky at the same time.

Not meeting his eyes, she bags up all of the rest of her apples, both from the bushel and her hidden stash.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re both single, right? I’m free tonight if you don’t have…”

“It’d be my pleasure, love. Perhaps you’d like to come to my place? I can finally give you an in-person demonstration on how I do that lattice work with only one hand.”

The innuendo he packed into that last sentence has her meeting his eyes, the huge smile on his face creating tiny lines at the edges of those baby blues. Yeah, she’d be up for a demonstration.

“Fine. You want these apples?”

The bag is heavy and he reaches out, letting his fingers brush hers for a moment before pulling it from her hand. Tucking it into the crook of his elbow, he grabs a handful of bills from his apron and drops them right into her open cash box.

“I do so appreciate you saving some for me, Swan.”

He’s already back at his own stall before she finds her voice to protest, but it’s half-hearted and he just tips his head at her with a smile from behind his table. With her apples all gone, she focuses on breaking down her stall, doing her best to not overthink the decision she’s just made and the implications of the actions she  _so_ hopes to be making in the very near future. Grabbing her phone, she shoots off a text to David, letting him know not to wait on her for dinner tonight and to not ask any questions. He does, but she just texts back the winky face emoticon before stuffing the phone back in her pocket. Sometimes that man really needs to pull back on the dad vibes.

* * *

 

They drive separately to Killian’s place, the fading sun creating a orange-red glow over the top of the trees in the field by his farmhouse as she pulls her VW bug in behind his truck. He’s at her door before she has a chance to open it, pulling the handle and offering her his hand.

“Really?”

“Aye, love, I am nothing if not a gentleman.”

Rolling her eyes up at him, she takes his hand, the rough callouses on his fingers sending sparks of awareness up her arms as she lets him help her from her car. He doesn’t step back as she stands, bringing them nearly chest to chest and smile to smile.

“Did I mention how happy I was to receive your invitation?”

Meeting his eyes and fighting a lingering urge to step back, she gives the hand she’s still holding a gentle squeeze.

“One of us had to make the first move and you obviously were to chicken to do it.”

Scoffing, Killian shuffles a tad closer and she feels the tentative pressure of his prosthetic at her waist.

“I was just biding my time, love, making sure you’d be receptive before making my move.”

Emma’s hands have moved to his chest, fingers flexing against the flannel before curling one hand around his collar to pull him down towards her. He’s close enough to kiss when realization hits her and her palm flattens, holding him back as she fixes him with an incredulous stare.

“The trees I saw as we drove up, those are apple trees. You have an orchard? Why on earth have you been buying grannies from me every week for two seasons now?”

Killian’s hand releases hers and she feels the loss immediately, but as he places it gently on her cheek and his fingers slide into the side of her hair, she swears her heart skips a few beats. Her breath is catching in her chest as his eyes rove over her face, gaze landing on her lips for a moment before coming back to her eyes. The unmasked affection warms her from the tips of her ears to the soles of her feet and she moves her fingers back to gripping at his collar.

“Don’t you know, Emma?”

It only takes a slight tug of her fingers to bring his mouth to hers, strong lips moving hungrily, taking all that she’s giving and then some. Curling her hand around his neck, she walks them backwards, groaning against his mouth as his body pushes her against the side of her car and fits so perfectly in places so desperately in need of touch. His body hard and warm, she curls around his strength, not protesting as his hand and prosthetic urge her legs up and around his waist, hoarse whispers of longing lingering in the breaths spared between them.

His tongue is masterful, making her tingle in anticipation of other places he can show his skill, places best explored inside and not up against the faded yellow car door he’s currently grinding her against. But it feels too good, the friction, the kisses, the sweat beading at the small of her back and deep in the hollow of her throat. It’s passion, almost animalistic, but building to that sweet anticipation of connection, not just with someone, but with Killian…who she’s been holding at arm’s length for entirely too long.

Feeling her leg begin to slip over his hip, she tries to cling tighter, the movement drawing a deep groan from Killian as his lips move from her mouth to her neck. She lets her head fall back at the first nibble of his teeth, his mouth mumbling something unintelligible against her skin.

“What was that? Oh god…harder…”

Killian’s hips slam into hers and her fingers dig into his scalp, drawing a cry from both of them that he swallows with a shaky kiss. Releasing his hair, she pushes her hands between them so she can tug blindly at his shirt, fingers clumsy as she tries to find buttons.

“Love, let’s take this inside,” Killian pants against her mouth, kissing her again as he guides her hips down and holds her waist as her legs hit the ground. He’s so kiss drunk that she doubts he meant that to sound as salacious as it did, but she’s good with both meanings, and nearly trips over her own feet as he takes her hand to lead her inside his farmhouse. His back hits the inside of the door as soon as he ushers her inside, lips swollen from overuse as she slides her tongue along the seam and her hands up and under his shirt. The curse he expels as her fingertips slide over his nipples is encouraging, and she works the flannel up and over his head, thankful for the lack of buttons buttoned to allow the quick removal. Her lips close over his right nipple and he goes slack against the door, hand sliding into her hair encouraging her to stay exactly where she is. The shifting power dynamic is everything and she has half a mind to see how long he will let her tease, but she’s too worked up and needs to find some kind of release.

Moving her hand to his jeans, she palms his erection beneath his zipper and lifts her mouth back to his lips, letting him take a bit of the power back with a deep, plunging kiss. When they both need a second to breathe, she slides her hand down into his now open jeans, looking up at him as she strokes him firmly beneath what feels like boxer briefs.

“Condom?”

“Aye…in the…bedroom. Fuck…Emma…you’re killing me.”

Untangling his fingers from her hair, he grabs at her wrist, pulling her hand from his pants so he can place it at the first button of her shirt. Realizing immediately what he wants, she begins to work her buttons open, watching as his eyes darken at the first sight of her breasts swelling over the cotton cups of her bra. She doesn’t get the shirt open all the way before he’s lifting her off her feet and she has to scramble to grab his neck, her laugh meeting his growl as he maneuvers them somewhat clumsily down the hallway to his bedroom.

“You’re a caveman, Jones,” she chides, letting her tongue peek out to trace the adorably pointed tip of his ear. His whole body shudders and she files that information away for later, when they have more time.

“I’ve wanted this too long, Swan. Forgive my brutish behavior.”

His words belie his actions, as he practically drops her onto the mattress before falling to his knees so he can work at tugging her leggings down her hips. He gets waylaid for a moment by her boots, but soon those are on the floor and he’s back to removing her pants. Finding herself completely on the same page with what is shaping up to a quick and dirty fuck, she gets her shirt off and unhooks her bra, hoping he’ll get a move on so she can feel…

“Guh…Killian, I…”

Words escape her as his tongue begins an unexpected,  _but welcome_ , assault of her clit. The first tendrils of orgasm are already pinging as he sucks and licks, his hand gripping hard at her hip to hold her legs open for his feast. The quilt beneath her crumples as she grips hard, knuckles turning white as she lets her body react, hips rising up towards his mouth, other hand searching blindly for the headboard to give her some sort of anchor. Giving up on that, she digs her fingers into his hair which prompts him to look up at her, the hunger in his eyes so palpable she knows she needs to feel barely coiled passion moving inside of her… _now_.

“Get the condom.”

“In the drawer to your right, love,” he mumbles, mouth descending for one more long suck before sliding up, tongue and lips mapping out the skin of her belly, the underside of her breasts and each nipple, leaving her unable to do anything but lie there and be worshipped. She’s still trying to catch her breath as he reaches her lips, leaving a quick kiss there before leaning over the side the bed, the soft, yet slightly prickly hair on his chest brushing against her nipple as he digs for the condom in his bedside table.

“You know, I’ve wanted this for a long time, too,” she confesses, cheeks burning as she closes her eyes at her own honestly spoken words. It’s terrifying being this open, but also exhilarating, and she welcomes the slight chill that runs up along her spine. The soft touch of Killian’s palm on her cheek brings her back to the moment at hand, opening her eyes to find him perched above her with a thankful smile. Before he can say something sappy, she does her best to lighten the moment.

“You find that condom yet, Jones?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, leaning back on his knees so he can rip the condom packet open with his teeth. She notices the socket holding his prosthetic on has designs similar to tattoos painted on it and she makes a quick mental note to ask him what they symbolize. She’s got other things that are much more pressing to attend to at the moment, like the beautiful man leaning back to down to kiss her as she pulls at his waist to bring him between her legs. They have to slow down initially as she remembers how long it’s been, both of them panting as her body slowly stretches, the sweat of exertion from holding back mingling as their chests and bellies crush together once he’s buried deep.

“Incredible…you feel incredible…” Killian breathes against her lips, kissing her slowly as he gently rocks his hips.

Needing more, she widens her legs, crying out as that brings him closer and it feels so good she wants to scream. “Move…please….”

He does, the claw of his prosthetic gripping the slat of his headboard as he puts his weight on his elbow, quickly pulling back his hips so he can come back to her with purpose. Her hands search for somewhere to hold, finding purchase at his waist as each crash of his body against hers draws her orgasm closer, her body feeling like warm jelly charged with electricity. Leaning up, she draws him into a kiss, the juxtaposition of the sweetness of his mouth against the power between his legs enough to scramble her brain.

“Emma, I’m too close…what do you need?”

“Close…too…fuck, just need…”

Unable to form words, she pushes at his chest and he sits back, causing her to scramble to keep their bodies connecting. It feels like a game of Twister for a minute, but eventually she gets herself situated in his lap, knees on either side of his hips and mouth kissing his laughs away as she takes control. This angle gives her the pressure she needs and she takes full advantage, riding him hard and quick until her thighs begin to quiver and she’s coming, knees clamping hard so hard she feels the beginnings of a cramp. Her orgasm must have triggered his, as his head falls forward onto her shoulder, breath hot against her skin as he groans and urges her to still her movements with a strong hand on her hip.

Pushing him onto his back, she stretches out onto his chest, loving the feel of sweat soaked limbs languidly tangling as she finds his mouth for a kiss. His hair is soft beneath her fingers as she holds him steady beneath her, the deep intimacy of the way their mouths are communicating scary and confusing, but she can’t seem to stop. Neither can he. When she leaves early the next morning, he kisses her long and soft against her car, the promise of much more to come like a tether growing stronger with each touch of their lips.

On their third date he finally teaches her how he makes the amazing lattice work of his pie crust with one hand. It’s mesmerizing watching him work and she listens as he tells her all of the stories behind his many painted on tattoos. They eat strawberry rhubarb pie naked at his kitchen counter, the chocolate silk pie following them to the bedroom later along with a bowl of fresh whipped cream.

On their fourth date, he takes her into his orchard to show off his trees, and when they emerge she can feel the itch of tree bark abrasions on her back and is missing a sock. It was worth it though, as she’s secured a deal to sell his apples at the Farmer’s Market that Sunday and a date for Sunday night.

He doesn’t know yet that the plan is dinner with David and Mary Margaret.

She has to make that one up to him late Sunday night, but it’s not a hardship.


End file.
